


Sanguine

by NinjaSniperKitty



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Consensual Blood Drinking, Curse of Strahd, It's kind of one-sided Strahd/Rahadin, M/M, Marking, Rahadin is totally into it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSniperKitty/pseuds/NinjaSniperKitty
Summary: Rahadin was... interesting, to say the least. Rarely had Strahd ever had a creature not just allow, butrequestthat he take their blood. Those that had typically held onto the hope that he would make them immortal.Rahadin was different, however. He did not seek immortality. It was hard to say exactly what he did seek from their little exchanges. Either way, it was not Strahd's place to ask questions and he was more than happy to accept his tribute.
Relationships: Rahadin/Strahd von Zarovich
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Sanguine

A soft wind caused the arched window in my bedchamber to rattle in its frame. I rarely used my bedchamber. It primarily served as a dressing room for me and a place in which I could be intimate without the fear of my creations mindlessly wandering in. As a mortal man, I had spent much of my time sleeping there. As an immortal man, however, I much preferred the safety of my coffin in the crypts of Ravenloft.

Far below, I could see the faintest outline of Barovia Village illuminated by stray beams of moonlight peaking out from beneath the cloud cover. I willed the clouds to disperse and they did so, as all things in the land do upon my command. Without the clouds concealing its beams, Barovia Village was illuminated all the brighter.

My thoughts wandered to  _ her _ , and whether she was already tucked away in the burgomaster’s pathetic excuse of a manor for the night. Perhaps I would pay Tatyana a visit soon...

There was a soft knocking at my bedchamber door. I knew it was my chamberlain, Rahadin, without even needing to ask. After having the dusk elf in my service for over 400 years, I had grown to recognize the sound of his footsteps and the characteristic way he knocked upon my door each time. I bade him entry.

Rahadin entered and promptly closed the door behind him. He was dressed down for once; rather than wearing his typical studded leather armor and garb, he was wearing a simple white undershirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The first three buttons were undone, revealing the dark swath of his throat and clavicle. It was rare for the normally prudent dusk elf to expose so much skin. An intentional wardrobe choice, I was certain; it was almost as if he was putting himself on display.

“Good evening, my lord. I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

“Good evening. No, you are not interrupting anything.” 

Our encounters of this sort were formulaic. He would initially express his interest by asking me early in the evening if I had fed that day, followed by how the prisoners were faring, if there had been any interesting quarry as of late, etcetera. That was my cue that Rahadin was willingly offering himself to me. What the dusk elf lacked in small talk capabilities he made up for in his boldness. It was rare of me to ever decline his offer and he would more often than not find me waiting in my bedchamber that night if I was interested. Nothing was ever explicitly requested, and my chamberlain preferred it that way under some semblance of him retaining the illusion of his modesty, I’m sure.

Rahadin did not fare well explicitly stating his desires, and I had learned that this little arrangement of ours allowed him to be more forthright. The last time I broke the pattern by asking some lascivious question, his face had flushed a deep red and he did not approach me for at least three weeks. 

Rahadin stepped further into the room and, upon me gesturing to the bed in the center of the room, sat on the edge of it. His leg was bouncing, I noted. Nerves, no doubt. 

Rahadin was interesting, to say the least. Rarely had I ever had a mortal not under my influence not just allow, but  _ request _ that I take their blood. Those that had had held onto the hope that I would turn them into one of my spawn, that I would make them _ immortal _ and spare them from whatever pathetic existence they lived. These individuals would end up in the dungeons of Ravenloft more often than not for me and my brides to feed upon whenever the mood struck. 

Rahadin was different, however. He did not seek immortality. It was hard to say exactly what he did seek from our little exchanges. Perhaps it fulfilled some sexual outlet for him. I had heard that the experience of having one’s blood drank was initially quite pleasurable for some inexplicable reason. Perhaps he viewed his blood as an offering, a means to prove his loyalty to me. Perhaps it was penance for something. Either way, it was not my place to ask questions and I was more than happy to accept his tribute. 

I stepped away from the window and began walking towards him. I cut right to the chase. “Did you eat today? I know how you enjoy forsaking meals to attend to your work.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Did you eat  _ well?”  _

The corners of Rahadin’s lips turned up into the smallest betrayal of a smile. “You’re beginning to sound like my mother, Strahd.”

“I’d much rather you not pass out from blood loss.” With my thumb, I tilted his chin up until his eyes met mine. “If we are to do this, we are to do this properly or not at all.”

His gaze darkened. Already I could hear his heart rate begin to accelerate. “Yes, I have eaten adequately today.”

“Good. Take off your clothes.”

Ever obedient, he began unbuttoning his shirt, far too slow for my tastes, and set the garment upon the bedside table. His boots and trousers soon followed until he was left only in his braies. 

Without his armor or the thick padding of his typical doublets, he was ever-so frail. Vulnerable, like many of the other elves I had seen in a state of undress. Taut muscle stretched across a thin frame made for a pretty sight and I could not help but trail feather-light touches across his body. He shivered beneath my touch.

With one hand I pushed at his torso until he was laying on his back, dark hair splayed out beneath him. I sat beside him on the bed.

His lean body was already covered in dark bruises from where previous bites and markings had begun to heal over. Below the neck and never anywhere visible; that was our agreement. His body was rather alluring like this, in my opinion. Evidence of my conquest. I pressed a thumb into a particularly pretty bruise on his chest and reveled in the pained gasp it elicited from him.

He was impatient, I knew; I could tell from the way he shifted uncomfortably on the bed and glanced at me expectantly. I could see the look of wanting on his face. Yet he knew I would give him what he wanted in time and he knew far better than to hurry me. He had learned well; the last time he spoke up I left him waiting for an hour. I had all of the time and patience in the world. He did not. 

His heart pounded rabbit-quick in his chest — a promise of the life that coursed through his veins. It was… tempting, to say the least. Gods, how I longed for that blood, to drain him of it until there was nothing left, but even I had to show restraint. It would do me no good to have a dead chamberlain.

I sat up and moved to straddle his hips. “Any preference on where you would like me to start?” I asked. I could be a gentleman when the mood struck me. 

Rahadin paused, as if thinking, before he spoke up again. “Thighs.” He swallowed heavily. “Please.” There was a breathless quality to his voice that I found endearing. 

I smirked. “Already? Usually I get to make you beg for it.” With that, I moved down and between his thighs. I propped myself up on my elbows and pushed up the hem of his braies. It was one of his favorite spots, if the sheer amount of bruising on his flesh was any indicator. With a hand beneath his knee, I pushed his bended leg up to provide better access to the inside of this thigh. I licked a teasing line up it, gently nipped at the skin there, and savored the way he writhed at my touch. I had commanded him to stay still — to ensure his safety lest I knick an artery — yet he always struggled to obey when I got to his thighs. It was a small transgression that I allowed just because I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him in such a state of abandon. 

Unable to wait any longer — even my own patience was wearing thin — I sunk my fangs into the meat of his inner thigh. Hot blood spilled onto my waiting tongue and I eagerly lapped it up like water in the desert. I don’t know what pleasure Rahadin derived from the experience, but my own was immense. Drinking blood sated, if only temporarily, some deep carnal urge inside me. It was always an intense rush of euphoria. 

His breathing was heavy. I could barely make out the sounds of him panting or my name on his lips above the thrum of blood pulsing through his femoral artery with each beat of his heart.

The blood did not come as readily as it did with a bite to the throat, but it was enough for the time being. I drew away, much to the dusk elf’s vocal dismay, but not before lapping at the pools of blood that welled at the puncture wounds. They would inexplicably close in time and I did not concern myself with tending to them.

His pupils were blown by the time I sat back up. I drew my tongue over my prominent canines and smirked down at Rahadin. His chest heaved with each breath and I could see the desire in his eyes when they fell upon me. It was such a foreign experience; usually prey looked upon me with intense fear or anger once the unexplainable sedative effect of a bite wore off. My chamberlain was peculiar, to say the least. Not that I was complaining, however; I got a meal for very little effort on my part.

Rahadin let out a shuddering breath. “More,” he pleaded. His voice came out barely louder than a whisper.

“Mm, eager tonight, I see. Very well. Sit up for me.” I lent him my forearm to pull himself up into a sitting position. I was still perched above his thighs. Our faces were mere inches apart. From this distance, I could smell the soap on his skin, could hear the air coursing through his lungs with each heavy breath. The position was intimate, resembling how one would embrace a lover, yet he did not seem to mind. Had the mood struck me, I no doubt could have leaned over and kissed him, and I was not convinced that he would have moved to stop me.

I wrapped my arms around his back and threaded the fingers of one hand through his dark hair. Gently, I pulled his head to the side to grant me better access. He was placid through it at all and let me manipulate his body to my whims. There was a lot of trust between us—trust that had been forged over 400 years of fellowship.

I trailed my lips over the especially tender junction between his neck and shoulder. His skin was uncharacteristically warm beneath my lips. “May I kiss you here?” I muttered against his skin.

“Yes.” His voice was practically quavering with some unseen emotion.

I bit into the flesh between his neck and shoulder. Rahadin gasped in pain yet arched his back into the embrace. Blunt nails instinctively clawed at my back and I pulled him closer, drank deeper.

His blood was particularly sublime. It lacked the bitter tang of fear that was so common in the blood of most of my conquests. Even if they could be placated by the pull of my influence, it would often last in their blood for hours, I found. Fear was an all too common emotion for Barovians, much to my dismay.

Rahadin tapped on my back—our sign that he was beginning to feel lightheaded and needed me to stop. I had apparently lost track of time. As reluctant as I was to stop, I had to respect his wishes lest I cause lasting damage. I needed to show restraint despite every instinct in my body urging me to continue. I pulled away, savoring the lingering taste of blood on my canines.

His expression was vacant, lethargic. His lips were parted slightly and I could hear his shallow breaths. He was either thoroughly blissed out or suffering from the effects of blood loss. Probably both, given the circumstance. 

“How are you feeling?” I asked. I brought a hand up to his forehead and pushed the hair away from his face.

“Hm?” Sluggishly, he turned his gaze to me. “I, ah… yes. Lightheaded, but fine overall.”

“Good.” Blood was still slowly oozing from the bite. I tried my best to ignore it. “That's enough for tonight. You need to rest.”

Rahadin hummed in response. Gently, I lowered him back onto the bed and pulled away, His eyes drifted closed.

“I'll have the help bring you up some food. I expect you to eat all of it this time.” I glared at him at that. The last time I'd had food brought to my quarters for him, a whole platter of breads and cheeses had gone untouched. The dusk elf was stubborn and more finicky than a child when it came to eating. 

“Mhm.” Rahadin sighed. He grabbed weekly at my arm as I went to leave the bed. “Stay? For a little while?” His gaze fell upon me.

“Alas, I have much that I must attend to tonight. As do you, I'm sure, as soon as you are feeling better.” I had no time to sit and prattle into the early hours like star-crossed lovers. Rahadin was feeling well enough and was not immediately going to die of blood loss. That was all that mattered to me.

“Ah. Y-Yes, of course. Forgive me for suggesting the idea.” He cleared his throat. ”I suppose I am… not thinking clearly at the moment. Yes, I shall return to my work as soon as I may steadily stand on my feet once more.”

“Good. Take care of yourself, Rahadin, and do not forget what I told you about eating. I will see you on the morrow to discuss plans regarding the siege on Vallaki.”

“Of course, my lord.”

With a final nod of my head and my appetite sated for the moment, I turned to leave my quarters.

**Author's Note:**

> I somehow wrote a semi-erotic fic without a single mention of genitals and I don't know why I did??
> 
> I also still have no idea what a chamberlain does exactly :U


End file.
